Seasons of Change
by Rosa Cotton
Summary: An outing of picking Wild Fresney is full of wonder, amusement, sadness, admiration, and new awkwardness. EustaceJill, The Last Battle.


Disclaimer: _The Chronicles of Narnia_, all characters, places, and related terms belong to C.S. Lewis. The plot is mine.

Author's Note: I am amazed by how well _Holding Your Breath_ was received. Thank you everyone who read and reviewed. This is a sequel and could be called a gap-filler. Enjoy!

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Seasons of Change 

"_When Jill and Eustace came out of the Tower yawning and rubbing their eyes at half past ten, the Dwarf showed them where they could gather plenty of a Narnian weed called Wild Fresney…"_

–Chapter Seven, "Mainly About Dwarfs," _The Last Battle_.

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"Pick as much as you can," Poggin said, sweeping a hand to the weeds growing in abundance in the field. "We can use it in a stew." Then the Dwarf headed back to the Tower, leaving the two children blinking sleepily after him.

Jill moved first. Slowly she knelt down and began to pick the green weed. As her mind became more awake and alert, she realized how stiff her legs and back were. She sighed softly.

Yawning loudly, Eustace joined her. "This reminds me of sorrel-wood," he murmured.

"Yes," she agreed tiredly.

The two worked in silence for a number of minutes. Jill paused, studied her dark hands and her Calormen garb. Glancing sideways at Eustace, she took in his Calormen helmet and chain mail and sword. Her lips twitched slightly as she noticed some black bangs resting against his dark forehead.

"Do you suppose we'll ever look like our proper selves again, Scrubb?" she wondered.

Eustace's gaze flickered between them several times. "I don't know."

"Mum probably wouldn't even notice me if I came home one day dressed like this," Jill's eyes turned sad and thoughtful.

Eustace grunted and plucked a weed with unneeded violence. _I would_, he thought. "If we returned to London like this, we will probably be arrested," he said out loud. He was relieved when Jill's eyes twinkled at him with amusement.

Both thought of the story Professor Kirke and Aunt Polly had told them and the Pevensies about when Jadis the Witch was loose in London.

"Yes, and the newspapers will print up stories about us for weeks," the girl chuckled, "'_Scrubb_ _and Pole, visitors from another world!_'"

A rare smile brightened Eustace's face for a moment.

"If we return," she added softly.

"What do you mean?" Eustace paused in his work and gazed at his friend.

Jill frowned and set down a weed in the growing pile. "It's just…I have a queer feeling that we won't return to London, ever." She looked at Eustace, searching for his reaction, half expecting him to laugh.

The boy steadily held her gaze, his face serious. "I've thought the same thing too, Pole," he said quietly.

"You have?" her eyes widened.

He nodded. "I've felt the same since Stable Hill."

"And I. Strangely, I'm not upset by the thought," Jill said.

"Nor I." Eustace agreed.

"Our family and friends will probably miss us, do you think so?"

"Time is so different between Narnia and our world, I couldn't say," he shrugged.

The two continued working in a thoughtful silence.

"Narnia will never the same, will it?" Eustace said with knowing sadness.

"No, I daresay it won't." Jill brushed a Wild Fresney before picking it. "So many no longer believe in Aslan and are tricked by the Ape." Tears began to well up in her eyes. "The Dwarfs didn't believe us last night – except for dear Poggin – even though we showed them Puzzle and explained everything! There will be others who won't believe, even if they see the false Aslan with their eyes."

Eustace patted her on the shoulder. "Yes, there will probably be others who won't believe," he admitted.

The girl sniffed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. _Oh, Aslan!_ she silently cried. "Poor things," she sighed, resuming work with a new energy. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Eustace wince and rub his shoulder. "Are you all right?" concern laced her words.

"Just a little sore from last night," he said, swinging his arm in a circle.

"You weren't hurt, were you?" Jill's focus was on the weeds as she spoke. "When, you know, the Calormene…" she trailed off.

"No," Eustace paled slightly. "I was just…it was rather frightening." He trembled, picking the weeds with intense concentration.

The girl flushed as she spoke with difficulty, "I'm glad you were not. That was…very brave of you, Scrubb." The shyness she had felt the previous night returned, and she did not have the courage to look at him.

The boy stared at her, shocked, and turned a bright pink. He felt embarrassed, and…something else that filled his stomach with butterflies. He would never forget her praise. He coughed and tried to return the compliment.

"Well, it was a very wonderful thing to do when you went and got Puzzle," he said, not noticing that Jill had grown still. "Though I was serious last night; I will kill you if you run off again like that." He smiled to himself. "And when you stood up to Tirian and protected Puzzle… I don't think a girl has ever stood up to a King of Narnia like that before. By Jove! I'm sure none of the girls in London would have done all the things you did last night." Eustace fell silent, suddenly realizing he had gotten carried away and shifted his weight, feeling uncertain.

At Jill's silence, he risked a peek over to her. She was looking ahead, a weed lay forgotten in her hand. A huge smile was on her face. The butterflies in his stomach returned.

"Thanks, Eustace," Jill nearly whispered.

The butterflies increased, and a pleased expression came over the boy's face. He grinned. "You're welcome."

The children shook themselves and returned their attention to their task. They both reached for the same weed, and their hands met. Surprised, they looked at each other for a moment. Heartbeats quickening and cheeks flaming, they each drew back their hands, eyes downcast.

"Sorry."

"It was my fault."

The rest of the picking passed in silence – a strange, awkward, yet not unpleasant silence.

THE END


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